Thin, White Lines
by VicTheButcher
Summary: Post-Brotherhood. Al's death leaves a gaping hole in Ed's life. In a desperate move to alleviate some of his guilt, he turns to self-harm. WARNING: character death, EdxWin pairing, fluff. Rated M for character death, Ed's foul mouth. Ch4 is up and reviews are quite welcome!
1. Valleys In Skin, Dug By Steel

"Ed? What are you doing?"  
Fuck.

"What happened to your arm?"

"...I hurt myself putting up the fence."

"Are you okay? Those look kinda...deep."

"I'm fine. Shut the door, please."

Winry eyed Ed closely for just a second, before taking a step into the hallway and closing the door behind her.  
Ed cursed quietly as he picked the razor up from the ground. He pressed the edge against his forearm, angling it and drawing a thin line across his skin. Blood seeped up from the the small valley he carved into his arm. Wiping the razor on his shirt, he pressed it again against his arm, carving another guilty line across his sinful, useless arm.


	2. A Light Shadow, Hidden By Gold

Winry stood up from her kneeling position beside Al's grave. 4 months to the day Ed had carried his little brother's lifeless body down the stairs, laid him on the sofa, and bawled his eyes out. Al had been skinny upon coming back, but that was expected. His body had been "behind the Gate" without any nourishment. Winry didn't understand that, Ed hadn't gone into the details, but she hadn't cared. Al was back with his real body, Ed was back with one less metal limb.  
Everyone promised Al would gain weight.  
Everyone said his color would return.  
Everyone insisted he'd be able to walk on his own.  
None of that came true. In fact, it had all just gotten worse. Al kept smiling the whole time. Winry hadn't even known Al was sick until a stony-faced Ed had woken her up in the middle of the night to tell her what he feared most was happening: Al had inherited their mother's illness.  
Just a month after they had come back, Al was gone. Never once had Al stopped being Al, though. He was always upbeat, always smiling. On the other hand, Ed spiraled very quickly. He spent tens of thousands of cenz bringing in doctors from all over Amestris, slept maybe an hour a night as he tended to his brother. Winry could sense the desperation and fear in his face whenever he came downstairs for fresh sheets.

Sighing deeply and wiping the tears from her cheeks, she turned around to see Ed standing there staring off into the distance. She was startled, not even having heard him walk up.

"I miss him, Winry." He said simply, still staring into nothing as if she wasn't even there. His voice was cracked and dusty sounding from the lack of use.  
Without a word, Winry simply stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. His own arms came gently, hesitantly, wrapping around her. She wasn't sure if he was comforting her or the other way around, but she knew they both needed it.

After a few moments they broke apart, and Winry looked up to Ed's tumultuous face. He had gotten taller, standing at least a head taller then Winry. He would be happy about that if he hadn't had more sobering things to think of the last few months. She fidgeted with his collar as she asked him,  
"Are you going to go visit him?"

"No. Maybe later...I can't right now." He replied sullenly, quietly.

"Aright. Lets go home, then." She gently took his hand. He didn't recoil, but his hand hung loosely and limply in hers. Leading him behind her like a lost child, Winry and Ed made their way back to the yellow house they called home.

* * *

When Ed and Winry arrived home, he trudged quietly to his room. Instead of taking the stairs, he walked numbly down the hall to a patient recovery room. The thought of sleeping in the same room where Al had never woken up disgusted Ed, so he had set himself up there. Luckily nobody had come to Pinako for automail in a long while, or else he'd be shunted back upstairs. He'd sleep in the grass before he so much as set foot in that room again.

The cot creaked as Ed sat on it, burying his face in his hands as was usual. Ed would sit for hours in this room, in that same position. Not eating, not drinking anything, just sitting. And thinking. Once Winry went in to check on him and she likened his position to a man in the gutter praying his heart out, but that wasn't Ed. No matter what gutter Ed found himself in, he wasn't the praying type.

"I couldn't even visit his goddamn GRAVE..." He whispered quietly into his palms. "I couldn't even leave FLOWERS. I couldn't even LOOK at his headstone...useless...useless...USELESS..." He slammed his flesh fist into his forehead with every recitation, varying between his brow and his temples, beating and abusing himself like he wished someone would. But nobody ever blamed him, never asked him why he didn't try harder...that interrogation was his, and his alone.

"USELESS...USELESS...USELESS..."  
Slam. Slam. Slam.  
Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door.  
"Y-yes?" He stuttered, fighting to control his breathing.

"It's time for dinner, Ed. Come eat." Came Pinako's aged voice.

"I'll be out in a second, Granny." Came his reply, standing from his position on the bed and walking over to the mirror sitting on his dresser. He picked it up, examine his face. Sighing in relief, he saw he had left no visible bruising. Maybe a light shadowing along his left orbital bone, but nothing that couldn't be hidden with hair. He had gotten good at striking only in places that didn't bruise easily. Somehow, he always felt a little better after his violent ministrations. Only a little, though. The emptiness and guilt lingered, like a monster under a child's bed. No matter how much he promised himself of its absence, it was always there. Lurking. Waiting. Sneering. However, the swell of all-consuming guilt and sorrow was abated, for now, as he turned and left his self-made torture room for dinner.

An hour or so after a dinner he barely remembered, he returned to his room. He probably made small talk with Granny, about how cold it had been today. Though, he hadn't felt anything on his way to and from the graveyard. Winry had probably asked him if he wanted apple pie for desert tomorrow, he had probably nodded his head yes and forced a small smile to his face. More then likely he had thanked them for making stew tonight, and said something about how he didn't believe it had milk in it since it was so delicious, but truth was it had tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Ashes.

Like Al's.

He sat back down on his bed, placed his head in his hands, and thought.

"USELESS...USELESS...USELESS..."  
Slam. SLAM. SLAM.

* * *

"Well, Ed seems to be doing a bit better, isn't he Granny?" Asked Winry hopefully, washing a bowl while Den whined at her feet for scraps.

"It seems so, child." Pinako replied. "But you know his outer appearance doesn't reflect what he actually feels."

"I know...but at least he's trying, now. He used to not even bother..." Pinako almost shuddered, remembering Ed sitting at the table three months ago, eyes dull and hair lank and dirty. Pushing a piece of Shepard's pie around is plate with a fork. Suddenly, he let the fork drop and simply stood up, walked out of the room, and left an uncomfortable silence behind as a door was heard slamming, followed by a loud, wild shout of misery.

"I'm not sure if that's any better, Winry..." Pinako conjures up the light shadow of a bruise near Ed's left eye as he put his stew bowl in the sink.

(A/N I'm pretty happy with this chapter. Self-harm is something I myself have struggled from, and I hope to portray this a issue in a tasteful, but accurate, manner. Reviews are very much appreciated, folks.)


	3. Hope Springs Eternal, Guilt is Cowed

Winry lay on her side, watching the rain fall outside her bedroom window. Pinako's words had found a home in Winry's brain, nestling deep into the crevices of her grey matter and setting up shop. Of COURSE Ed was just putting up a front...that's what he always did. The fact that he didn't talk to anyone about how he felt upset Winry, but she understood. If anyone, Al had been the one that Ed opened up to. Now that his little brother was gone, Ed must be beyond lost...but he still had her! She could help him...or at least she liked to think so. She could try, at the very least.

All she knew for sure was that if Ed kept it all inside, he'd explode. Pain like this...Winry had cried for a week straight after Al's passing. Cried to Pinako, cried to Den, even to Edward. Edward had dutifully held her as she cried, and she had felt better afterwards. But...thinking back, she didn't recall Ed crying besides the morning he brought Al downstairs. That concerned her. Ed never cried. Never. She had used to cry for him, praying that somehow it'd relieve some of his pent up guilt and sorrow. Lately she could cry only for herself...Winry felt that if she didn't cry, she'd burst.

If Ed didn't cry, how did he express himself? The youth always looked so lost, vacant behind the eyes. His mind was elsewhere, or was locked away behind his loss. She would help him get away from this pain. Ed needed her desperately, and Winry swore she'd find a way.

* * *

"Brother! Help me!" Al laid in bed, screaming in pain. "Brother! Please! It hurts so badly! PLEASE!"

Ed was on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. Al was twisting, convulsing, his jaw bending out at an inhuman angle from his cries.

"BROTHER! Why did you do this?!" Al's back arched, his head bent in an impossible way. His wild cries became wordless, pure howling rage and pain. Ed sunk to the floor, smashing his head into the ground over and over and over, sobbing. "Al...please...I didn't mean to...I'm trying..."

Suddenly, Al's screams became a bloody gurgle, and Ed lifted his tear stricken face to Al's bed. What lay there wasn't his little brother. Instead the creature they had spawned the night they tried to bring their mother back lay sprawled. It shook and sputtered as blood flowed onto the clean sheets Ed had pulled over the bed. More and more and more, until the sanguine flood spilled onto the floor.

Ed turned his eyes from the horrifying sight, but the twisted, unfortunate character was right there, crawling from the other corner of the room towards him on wrong bending legs. It pushed its forehead along the ground as its tongue snaked from its mouth, thick and slavering, much like Gluttony's. The likeness was complete when an eye opened in the middle of it, the pupil dilating and shrinking insanely.

Ed bolted upright, clawing the sheets away from his sweat soaked body.

"Shit...shit..." He gulped air like a drowning man. With shaking hands he extricated himself from the tangled covers and stood up. Wiping his soaked face, he decided not to care whether the moisture was sweat or tears. He walked into the kitchen, judging it to be very early morning or very late at night by the sky outside the window.

Gulping down a glass of water, he sat down and forced himself to stop shaking. These goddamn dreams had plagued him ever since...and they were getting worse. He usually woke up as soon as the eye opened, but the frenzied dilation of the monstrous thing filled him with dread. Ed remembered the open Gate, the smirking Truth, and hundreds of shadowy immaterial hands grasping, pulling, tugging. He remembered how the insistent hands seemed to be tearing his very soul from his body.

"Ed? What are you doing up so late?" A voice came from the dark. Ed jumped, spilling his third glass of water over himself.

"Winry? J-just...sitting. Couldn't sleep." He replied, scowling at the cold water on his pants.

"Me either. Mind if I sit with you?" She walked softly into the kitchen, wearing a long white t-shirt. The moonlight gleamed off her bare legs, and off her cornsilk blonde hair. Her eyes were wider then the moon, and bluer then anything Ed had ever seen. The way she rubbed at them meant she had just woken up, and Ed found himself hoping desperately that she hadn't woke in the same state as he did.

She sat across from him and smiled lightly at him. To his eternal surprise, Ed felt the corners of his own lips pull upwards. Probably the first genuine smile anyone had gotten out of him in months. They sat and talked about little things. Den needed to be refit for her automail leg. The farmers all predicted a rough and early winter. The fence probably needed mending soon, and Ed volunteered.

Sitting here like this, Ed felt an old and familiar feeling. The feeling he had suppressed while traveling, the one he had dared to let blossom when he returned. The feeling he had taken out behind the house and shot in the head after his little brother's death.

He loved Winry. Achingly. Maybe it was only an ache because it had been denied for so long, or his own mind and heart were in such dire straits, but he NEEDED her. Ed knew he needed to be taken care of, by her. And only she could help him get over this.

And then...GUILT. Guilt was always Ed's driving force. It was what kept him on his feet even when he wanted to fall to the ground and wither away. It was what kept all other things at bay. He had to appease his guilt, feeding it more and more everyday. An angry beast in his chest, its hunger was all-powerful in Ed's life. And now, once again, it demanded Ed feed it this small, burgeoning hope.

All of this whirled in Ed's head while they chit-chatted. The hope wavered, just the tiniest bit, before standing up to the beast and beating it back with the help of Winry's small, warm hand that came unbidden across the table to wrap around his own. The beast snarled, demanding its meal. Hope spoke back, in Winry's voice.

"We'll get through this, Ed. Together. I promise." Her warm smile shook the beast to the core, forcing it into the corner of Ed's heart with the radiance that emanated from her sweet face and her loving smile.

"Thank you, Winry." Ed mumbled, going slightly pink.

Standing, Winry walked behind him and threw her arms around his shoulders. Leaning down, she kissed his temple softly. Ed fought the urge to jump at this unfamiliar contact...but it wasn't just that. She had unknowingly kissed the small, painful bruise that Ed had given himself earlier. The beast screamed in frustration, shying away from the alien warmth spreading through Ed's chest.

He returned the favor by reaching his arms over his head and threading them around the back of her neck, holding her close.

"Ed? Would you mind if we crashed on the couch tonight? I...I really don't want to go back al-upstairs." She corrected herself hastily at the end of her sentence. Ed knew what she was going to say..."alone". Admitting to himself, Ed thought about how he surely didn't want to go to bed alone, either.

He stood up, gently taking her hand in his, and led them to the couch. Laying down, he pulled Winry down gently, wrapping her in his arms. She sighed contentedly, wriggling her fingers between his until they were clasped together. They lay, silently.

Ed's roaming mind turned to sunny childhood days, an eternity ago. He and her had sat on this very couch, laughing as Al played with Den, barking and wriggling his behind like the puppy did.

Al...

The beast raised its head, sniffing hopefully.

(A/N okay, so apparently late night is my time for writing now. I loved writing the nightmare scene...does that make me twisted? Anyways, I also have a great fondness for the "beast", Edward's guilt. He appeased it for so long, and now it is DEMANDING he give into it completely. I love writing these metaphors. What did you guys think this the imagery? REVIEW PLEASE!)


	4. A Step Further, Shattered Reflections

As soon as he was sure Winry had fallen asleep, Ed had very carefully extricated his arm from her grip and very carefully slipped over the back of the couch (which is harder then it sounds, considering automail is a very noisy thing). Walking, as if in a daze, back to his room Ed couldn't help but kick himself. After YEARS he had what he wanted: Winry. But he couldn't let himself just be happy, just enjoy the moment. No, enjoyable moments were out of his grasp now that Al would never have another.

Making his way around the corner and down the hall, time seemed to slow. Al would never know the touch of a lover, never visit Xing like he wanted to. Al would never know the little joys life could give at all...and all because Ed insisted on retrieving Al's body.

He, in fact, had SAVED his little brother when his body had been taken by Truth, locked behind the Gate. The disease he had contracted from his mother lay dormant, until Al's warm soul had unfrozen it and allowed it to run rampant. Sitting on his bed, Ed wished desperately that the disease had lodged itself in him, instead. The doctor's explanation as to why it hadn't found Ed's body attractive rang in his head: it was in Al's blood, the vulnerability passed down from his mother. If Ed hadn't insisted on getting his body back...and Al had begged him to forget it at first, begged him to just move on. Did he know what lurked in his own body?

Shaking his head, Ed dropped it into his hands. Of course he hadn't known, how could he? He was just a kid. ED should've known,..he didn't know WHY he should've known, but he should've. He was the big brother! He was supposed to take care of him! And now he was gone...  
Gone...  
Gone...  
With every booming repetition of the word in Ed's head, a booming thud followed. His balled up fists struck his head and face, not differentiating between the metal and flesh hands anymore. Each struck with the same dull crash, driving all thoughts from his mind besides his mantra of retribution.  
Gone...  
Gone...  
Gone...  
Ed didn't stop until he felt his lip split open, warm salted blood seeping into his mouth. Spitting sanguineous saliva to the side, Ed laughed bitterly. He usually felt better after this. After his self-imposed battery. Not now. Now his face hurt, and his heart fluttered painfully, like a dying bird.

Spitting again, he grimaced when some of the spittle dribbled down his lip. Ed stood up shakily, ignoring the dizziness that overtook him, he walked over to his dresser and the mirror on top of it. Picking it up, he gazed at his bedraggled reflection.

His hair hung limp and dirty over his eyes, he hadn't bothered to tie it back since Al's passing. The normal sunny sheen was gone, and his hair had dulled significantly, closer now to a blonde-brown then its usual gold. His eyes were the same, gone was the fire that lit them in the past. Why should it linger, when not a bit of the past flame of determination was left unquenched? His eyes were an indicator of the sorry shape his mind and heart were in. Dropping his gaze a bit, he saw that his lip was indeed busted wide open, and the collar of his shirt was tacky with blood. Peeling it off revealed another sign of a dwindling Ed: his normally toned, muscular body was thinner, and gone were the taut ropes of sinewy muscle. He hadn't been eating as well as he used to, and he rarely even left his room. Plus, how would he gain muscle? There was nobody left to spar with...

Growling with fury at his piss-poor reflection, he slammed his flesh hand into the mirror, shattering it. Hissing, he drew back his hand to see a few tiny pricks of glass, picking them out slowly with his other hand. The sharp, stabbing pain cleared his head a bit, and as the last shard was picked from his knuckles, his eyes landed on the largest piece of broken glass. It was maybe 4 inches long, ending with a sharp point.  
Picking it up, he studied his stare in the reflection. Suddenly, the dull yellow orb narrowed into a slit, and Ed stalked back to his bed.

The rush of guilt and sorrow flooded back, overcoming any sense or chance that Ed had of sleeping through the night. Recalling the flash of clarity that had come over him upon shattering the mirror, Ed stared at the shard again. He had heard of people doing this before, soldiers that struggled with post-traumatic stress cuts on his knuckles throbbed dully now, and as Ed stared at his reflection he felt his lips turn up of their own accord, settling into a hateful scowl. Hatred and rage and sorrow mixed and swirled and manifested as a gurgling, savage growl dragging across his vocal chords.

Dropping the shard from eye-level to his arm, Ed slowly and purposefully drew an angry red line across his skin, watching with an odd, detached feeling as blood soaked up from the narrow cut. Another small bit of clarity, quickly fading as images of Al's motionless body swam up. Another small slit in his arm, more clarity.

A few minutes and more then a few precise, bloody lines later and Ed's breathing slowed. Sliding the shard under his bed, Ed stood up and softly wiped the blood from his arm with his previously discarded shirt. He had no idea how he'd explain the blood on the shirt, nor the split in his lip, nor did he care. He wished briefly that he could slip back onto the couch with Winry, but decided against it. He'd probably wake her up, and waking her up would mean questions...

Instead, he pulled on another shirt and climbed under his sheets. Tucking his knees into his chest, he curled into a small ball and fell into a deep sleep, free of slavering and blood-soaked monstrosities.

* * *

Winry awoke with a start to a thud and the tell-tale sound of shattering glass. She realized with another start that Ed's warm body that had been beside hers before she fell asleep was gone, and suddenly she felt like sobbing. All she had wanted was the comfort of another, to feel arms besides hers wrapped around her, just for one night. Instead, she rose groggily and walked towards the source of the commotion, Ed's room down the hall.

She worried about him in there. Closeted in to fight his massive demons, it obviously wasn't healthy. Especially when he fed said demons day and night, and had done so for years now. If the stubborn ass would let her, she'd join in the war between his past and his conscience and she'd-no. She wouldn't join in, she'd force an everlasting peace between the two sides, before they tore poor Ed apart like two dogs fighting over a stuffed animal. She'd hold him to her chest and stroke his hair, coo softly to him day and night until he was better...it was all she knew to do, and all she COULD do. God only knew what tortures he put his mind through in that room, what guilt he heaped upon his already trembling and work-sore shoulders.

Stepping to his door, she was about to knock before she noticed it was slightly ajar. Through the small crack in the door, she saw Ed sitting on his bed, looking at her-no, looking at something he held up between his fingers, something glinting in the light caught from the oil lamp that hung from his ceiling. Suddenly, a feral growl issued from his throat, and a snarl ripped his face into a mask Winry had never seen before. Maybe Scar had seen this face, or the homunculi...the visage that marred Ed's face in that brief moment was certainly reserved only for his most hated of opponents. The fact that Ed has made this face in the safety of his own room frightened Winry, though she didn't know why.

Recalling the sound of shattering glass, Winry realized with a touch of horror whom the enemy was as Ed pressed the glittering thing to his bare arm and pulled it slowly across the flesh. Ed was attacking the only enemy left, and the one he hated the most: himself. She watched the glistening blood flow freely from Ed's arm, and as he lifted his hand to another bare spot on his arm and repeated the process she began shaking, a strangled cry caught in her throat.

Trembling violently, she thought wildly that this wasn't something she should be watching, something that she should bear witness to. The detached, almost clinical look on his face as he carved into his flesh frightened her the most...she took a few steps back, turning on her heel and almost running upstairs. Reaching her room, she dropped herself onto her bed and let out a choked sob.

A million questions dashed through her mind. Why was he cutting himself? Did he really hold so much guilt that he felt compelled to hurt himself? How long had he been doing it? There was one question, however, that she refused to field...

How could she have let him sink so far?

(A/N hey, guys! Sorry for the long delay...writer's block is brutal. Still fighting through it...though I'm faring better then poor Ed, huh? Writing this chapter inspired me to take this story even further, and darker. I'm forced to put these characters through hell for a proper happy ending...after all, the morning always looks brighter after the longest of nights, right?

remember, leave a review if you liked it! Or even if you hated it, I guess.

oh! One last thing. If you need a break from the dark, serious tone of this fic, take a look at the 100 theme challenge I'm doing. It's full of wonderful, fluffy goodness. Cheers!)


	5. Suggested Horizons

Winry lay wide awake all night long. Not even bothering to close her eyes, she only berated herself for not helping to catch Ed before he fell so far. It was ironic in a way...the whole self-deprecating guilt thing was Ed's schtick, but she couldn't help it. Winry felt responsible, terribly and wholly responsible. The helpless blame she heaped upon herself was sickening, and she shuddered for what must've been the millionth time that night. Was Ed simply better at dealing with it all? Was THAT how he coped, by hurting himself? How long had he been coping that way?

All this was Al's thing. He was the one everyone turned to when they were at their wit's end, he was the one who comforted everyone, patted backs. His shoulder was always free for whomever needed it, whether they leaned upon it or cried into it. Winry firmly believed that Al was the only one who could help the family get over, well...his death. But Al was gone now, and he wasn't coming back.

That thought bit into Winry's heart, but she ignored the prickling behind her eyes. No more tears, not now. Al wasn't with them any longer, but they couldn't all just waste away. Winry couldn't keep pretending and Ed, well...Ed couldn't continue to punish himself and wallow in the yawning abyss Al had left behind. Ed didn't handle loss well, not at all...he was the strongest person Winry had ever known, but the death of those he loved hit him harder then anything else could. Maybe it was a good thing that Ed no longer had the capability to perform alchemy, or else...well, Winry didn't want to think of what else.

Ed was too far gone, too deep in the depths of his mind and heart to pull himself out with sheer willpower. Winry decided then and there that it was time to stop wishing and hoping that Ed would open up. It was time for her to take matters into her own hands. Before things spiraled further then they already had.

And so Winry lay there for the rest of the night, wracking her brain for ways to move forward. She knew that Al was the only constant Ed had ever known, and he must be lost now. The loss of a pillar in someone's life demanded that another be built in its place, lest the person collapse in on themselves much like Ed was clearly close to doing.

They had all been dwelling in Al's loss...maybe they needed a change of pace? Some new sights? An almost-smile tugged at Winry's mouth as she thought of this. Yes...this might work. After all...Ed loved to travel.

* * *

A few hours later, an exhausted Winry pulled up a chair next to Granny as she ate.

"Hey, Granny?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes, child?" Pinako replied, turning her aged gaze on her granddaughter.

"I've been thinking...it might be a good idea for us all to, you know...get away. From Resembool. A change of scenery might do everyone some good!" Winry didn't intend to tell Pinako of what she'd seen the previous night, as she knew she shouldn't know about it herself. Ed was particular with his privacy and secrets...if she meant to help him, she needed him to be unaware of what she knew, lest he withdraw from her.

"I'm much too old to travel, Winry. You know that." Pinako replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

"I know, but...being here just reminds me of...him, you know? I can't forget about it." Winry wouldn't give up. Ed needed this.

"I understand that. But you shouldn't forget about it. That would be a disservice to Al's memory." Pinako had cried after Al's death, which was shocking to Winry. She'd never seen her grandmother cry. EVER.

"O-of course not, Granny! I don't want to forget, I...just..." Sighing, Winry stood from the table and took Pinako's plate from the table.

As she walked to the sink to start tidying up, Winry heard Pinako speak again. "I know what you're saying, child. Walking past his room everyday must be salt in your wounds. That's why Ed is down here, now." Ed had taken to sleeping in long past breakfast, sometimes not getting up until two or three in the afternoon. Pinako was no psychiatrist, but she knew the telltale signs of depression when she saw them.

"Yeah..." Winry's reply was soft, nearly inaudible.

"Where were you thinking of going?"

Was Granny actually considering this? Winry turned around to face her grandmother. "Well...I thought Ed would like to go to Xing at first, but...Al wanted to to there to study. I don't think Ed would be up for that. Then, I thought maybe Dublith-"

Pinako cut her off. "Is this trip for you or Ed?" She always COULD see right through the teenaged girl.

"...Ed. He needs to get his mind off this, Granny...I'm scared for him." She relented.

"I'll tell you what...you do both need to get your mind off everything. That pipsqueak hasn't relaxed in years. And you're overdue for a vacation. Talk to Ed, go anywhere you like. I'll take care of your clients while you're gone."

Winry squealed, running over to hug her grandmother in her chair.  
"Thank you Granny! So much!"

Pinako patted Winry's back in response. "God knows these children could use some happiness." She thought glumly.

* * *

Ed's eyes cracked open. He was dimly aware of dried blood coating his lip and chin, and his arm stung. Why the hell did he feel like he'd gotten his ass beat?

Oh.

Ed remembered suddenly the ordeal of the previous night. Remembered how his anxiety and terrible guilt ebbed away from him like the blood that had dripped from his arm. Hell, it almost felt good. About as good as anything did, these days. After washing up in the attached bathroom, Ed pulled on a long sleeve shirt to hide his scabbing cuts.

"Hey, Ed?" Came Winry's voice from behind the closed door to his room. Was she mad that Ed had slipped away from her last night on the couch? She didn't sound it. Shrugging, Ed figured he'd might as well find out.

"Comin'." He shouted, walking over to the door and opening it. "Whatcha need, Win?" He asked.

Judging by her face, she wasn't mad. Or she was hiding it well. Either was just as likely, he'd lost his impeccable ability to read people as of late. He attributed it to forced isolation. He knew it wasn't healthy, but he didn't really care.

"I just wanted to talk." She replied cheerily. Almost TOO cheerily. Ed shrugged.

"Alright." He sat on his bed, crossing his legs Indian style. Winry pulled a chair from his desk and sat down as well. She looked at him oddly, almost apprehensively. The silence stretched a few seconds and Ed cleared his throat.

"What'd ya wanna talk about?" He asked a bit irritatedly. He was actually hungry for once, and he could smell the leftover aroma of breakfast.

"Well...I was talking to Granny. She thought it might be a good idea to go on vacation." She spoke slowly, haltingly, as if gauging his reaction. If she was disappointed in his blank face, she didn't show it.

"I don't know. Don't you have customers or something?" Ed threw his hair off his shoulder. He'd need a trim soon, or at least he'd think he did if he still cared much about how he looked.

"It's been really slow, lately. That's why Granny let you stay in the recovery room." She gestured around her, allowing a smile to her face.

"Okay. If things are slow, how are you going to pay for this?" He crossed his arms and scowled a bit.

"Didn't Mustang give you a massive pension when you left?" She was grinning a bit now, hoping to goad him into doing the same.

"So." He fixed her with a blank stare. "You want me to pay for all of us to go traipsing about this stupid country?"

"It wouldn't be all three of us. Just you and me. Granny is too old to travel like that, plus we still have people coming for check ups." Winry replied in a slightly miffed tone. Well, he was cantankerous as always.

"But I'm paying for it." He stated flatly.

"Seriously Ed, what the hell are you spending it on?" Winry's outburst reeked of irritation and maybe an edge of desperation.

"...nothing. I guess." He hadn't spent a dime since Al's memorial.

"Exactly. Nothing. Come on, Ed. It'll be fun! We can go anywhere you want to!" Chirped Winry, thinking she had the upper hand.

"I don't want to go anywhere." Ed stood up to walk past her, but she rose from her chair and stood in his path to the door.

"Come on, Ed. You've been cooped up in here since-"

"Shut up." Ed whispered, having dropped his gaze to his feet when Winry stood in his way. "Just shut up. I know what I'm doing. Just leave me alone." He tried to step around her, but she clasped his arms.

"I won't shut up. I won't leave you alone! You can't shut yourself away, Al wouldn't-"

"SHUT UP!" Ed roared, his head snapping up. The fire had rekindled in his eyes, if only for a moment, and if only in anger. "You don't know what Al would want and neither do I! He's gone, Winry!" The hands on his arms were shaking, though he didn't know whether it was from fear of his rage, or anger from his verbal attack. To his surprise, it was neither.

Winry's eyes swum with tears, but her face wasn't crumpled like it normally was when she cried. It was strong, defiant, like the hands clasping his shirt sleeves. She said nothing, only stared at him as he returned her fiery gaze. But, for once, Edward Elric backed down. Maybe her tears had extinguished the flame of his anger for once, instead of stoking it?

He looked down again, hair falling over his face. "Fine." He murmured defeatedly. "Where are we going?"

Winry's hands moved from his biceps to his shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. "Wherever you want, Ed. Just let me know." Winry replied, smiling sadly.

She turned to leave, but felt a pressure on her wrist. Turning back around, she was pulled into a tight hug.

Ed cradled Winry's head into his chest, breathing heavily -almost panting- into her head. She relaxed, snaking her arms around the small of his back, hugging him back tightly. This hug was rough, almost brutal. His arms squeezed her roughly, his breath stirred her hair, and her hands stroked his spine gently in stark contrast.

As suddenly as they came, Ed's arms fell from around Winry and hung limply at his side. Winry refused to let go, however, only throwing one arm around his neck and pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. He complied limply, which she supposed was better then him pushing her away.

They stood like this for a time, Winry pressed almost desperately into Ed's thin chest.

Whispering into his chest inaudibly, Winry made a promise.

"I'm going to save you, Ed."

(A/N I just figured out where this story was going. Go figure. Haha

a hearty thank you to my beta-reader jacylnkaleigh!

A shout out to one of my readers, velveteens, who seemed so excited for this chapter! Go read her theme challenge simply entitled 100 Themes!

A final shout out to a new author here on , Maki-Elric! They just posted their first fic, go give it a read! It's called Intense Feelings of a Dream!)


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